Time to Depart Read Online Free PDF Page A

ropes. The captain hovered at the head of the gangplank, impatient to sail now he had the breeze and approaching light. None of us made any attempt to look for Linus. It was best to forget he was there.
    The vessel was a roomy merchantman called the Aphrodite. Balbinus would be well set up; there was a cabin for the captain and favoured passengers, a latrine hanging over the stern, even a galley where food could be prepared. The Aphrodite was half as big again as the ship on which Helena and I had returned from Syria. She needed to be strongly built to make such a long voyage so late in the year.
    Now the criminal stood looking hesitant; he seemed uncertain what was expected of him. 'Am I to board?'
    His doubt did not last. Petronius Longus appeared in front of him, flanked by Martinus and me. The other squad members clustered close, in a tight circle.
    'Just a few formalities.' It was clear that now Balbinus was in the care of the Fourth Cohort there would be no hail-fellow handshaking. 'I've waited a long time, Balbinus,' Petro said.
    'No doubt you have done your duty, officer.' The man spoke with reproach. He still seemed like a tunic-braid salesman - one who had just been told to his amazement that his embroidered Egyptian fancies had leaked crimson dye all over ten togas at some swanky laundry. 'I am innocent of the crimes of which I have been accused.'
    'They all say that,' Petronius complained, addressing the sky in despair. 'Gods, I hate this hypocrisy! A straight villain always respects a straight arrest. He'll shrug and accept that he's caught. But all you self-justifying types have to make out that you cannot believe anyone could so terribly misjudge you. You convince yourselves all that matters in a civilised society is for men like you to continue your businesses without interference from officious sods like us. Sods who don't understand.' Petronius set his jaw so hard I thought I heard his molars crunch. 'Only I do understand!' he sneered. 'I understand what you are all too well.'
    This rant had had no effect. Balbinus' eyes, some colour you wouldn't bother to notice, wandered to me. He seemed to realise I was an outsider, and was hoping for some sympathy. 'You had your chance,' I told him, before he could start whining. 'The benefit of a jury trial, in the calm of the Basilica. Six lawyers. A jury of your equals, who heard about your activities without allowing themselves to be sickened. A judge who, even while passing sentence, was polite. Meanwhile outside, market traders still had their takings grabbed by your rampaging street gangs. Near-destitute old women were being tricked out of their savings. Men who dared to resist your hold-up thieves spilled their lifeblood into the gutter. Female slaves were sold into prostitution by angry mistresses after your footpads snatched the shopping money - ' Petronius moved slightly. I fell silent.
    'Is there anything further you wish to tell me about your business?' Petro's request was formal; a vain hope.
    'I am innocent,' Balbinus intoned solemnly.
    Petro's sarcasm was milder than I expected: 'Oh, for a moment I thought you were going to surprise me and admit something.'
    His men were on edge, wanting to retaliate, wanting something to make them feel good.
    Petronius held out his hand, palm upwards. 'You can keep what you stand up in. I need your equestrian ring.'
    With automatic obedience, the big rissole pulled off the badge of his lost social status, struggling to wrench it over his first knuckle bone. He looked puzzled again. 'May I have a receipt?'
    'No need.' Petro took the small band of gold between finger and thumb as if it offended him. He set it edge up on the top of a bollard, then raised one boot. A full inch of layered oxhide stamped down, studded with iron and moulded by hard usage to intractable curves that echoed the shape of Petro's foot. I knew, through having stumbled over it on many occasions when drunk, that my old tentmate's massive trotter